


Watcher

by i_claudia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: Epilogue Compliant, Mutually Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-25
Updated: 2008-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was watching Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watcher

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for last drabble writer standing and posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/9535.html#cutid1). (25 May 2008)

He was watching Harry.

He watched as the dark-haired man and his wife emerged from the mist, herding three children in front of him, looking for someone. He knew he was looking for cracks in the perfect Gryffindor façade as he examined the picture they presented, framed in swirling steam. The general public might believe what they wanted, but he knew better; he had seen perfect Harry Potter at his worst, his most unguarded. He watched out of the corner of narrowed eyes as the Potters and Weasleys greeted each other enthusiastically, tracking the movement of Harry’s mouth as the other man talked.

They were all oblivious. _He_ had seen the raw passion lurking beneath the surface of those calm green eyes, behind the slight quirk of that mouth.

His perceptive wife had noticed the threads he’d left dangling quickly, but he’d been just as quick in covering the rest of his tracks. In the end she’d just shaken her head fondly and the world had gone back to normal. Sometimes she teased him about it; she called it his _little obsession_.

She didn’t know about the locked drawer in his desk. She didn’t know about the hefty stack of _Prophet_ articles, carefully clipped and all bearing the same name, the photos taken out of windows or across parks, the old badge that sometimes half-heartedly screamed out _POTTER STINKS_ in lurid print. 

She didn’t know about the letters concealed beneath the drawer’s false bottom, all written in that nearly-illegible scrawl and neatly bound with a dark red ribbon.

He looked up to find the Gryffindors staring at _him_ for a change. Wary, he nodded, his eyes locked on Harry’s. He wanted to see more than just indifference on Harry’s face, wanted to snap his fingers in Ginny Potter’s face and laugh while _she_ fumed and screamed and cried.

In the end he just turned away – like he always did, he thought, the bitter edge dulled by time – and smoothed his son’s hair, smiling encouragingly down at his anxious expression. He didn’t see Harry’s gaze lingering on his dark back, his hungry expression hot against the dreary day; didn’t see Harry shake himself, the shutters behind his eyes clanging shut again as he turned his own back and put an arm around Ginny, inscrutable again as the whistle blasted and the steam from the engine twined around him.

All was well, and Draco Malfoy hated it.


End file.
